Static Broadcast

Static on the wire,

three

AM on the dial

An old pirate transmitter spinning out of style I'm reading out the

headlines scheduled for tomorrow A script of cold secrets,

of wreckage and of sorrow (hahaha)

Turn the dial but the signal stays Broadcast of the end of

days I hear my voice from the dead receiver Saying my next

step, making me a believer

The speaker is cold,

the power plug is pulled

But the voice keeps talking,

perfectly controlled It says I'll take a breath and look behind the

screen

Tracing every movement

of a nightmare scene (hohoho)

It knows what I see

It knows where I stand

Written in the script

By an unseen hand

Turn the dial

but the signal stays

Broadcast

of the end of days

I hear my voice

from the dead receiver

Saying my next step,

making me a believer

Off the air.

Dead air. (shhh)